


Here

by Desdimonda



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7034581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela goes missing during a mission and Genji is adamant to find her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here

His heel caught the edge of the building as he propelled to the next roof.

“Angela? _Angela_?” he cried through their comm channel as he bounded over the rooftop, steps silent and swift. The last words he had heard from her were broken, a lost cry for help that vanished into static, no matter how many times he had called her name through the channel.

He had called to the others; Morrison, McCree - even _Hanzo_ \- who had tentatively begun to assist the newly formed Overwatch, their trust in him growing, little by little. But from their positions on the darkened streets of Barcelona, alive in the aftermath of a terrorist attack, none had the answer he sought.

> _She went to find you, Genji._
> 
> _Two streets behind, the last I saw._
> 
> _We have a task ahead, brother. Dr Ziegler can handle herself._

Their words just made him run faster, they made him search harder, the beat of his heart, frantic. They had only just reunited again, after years apart. He had only begun to see her smile again, and it not be a dream. When he had left, Overwatch was still together, and they were - what were they? Friends? Lovers?

The line of friends had been breached, more than once, but they hadn’t established enough to call themselves lovers. A glance, a touch, a stolen kiss when he felt brave enough to remove his face plate. But a part of him knew he had to leave, for a long time, and he kept his distance, even if his heart screamed to run to her, _with_ her. Run a thousand miles, and never stop.

And now, he ran too. He ran to her. To find her. To help her. He called over the comm, repeating her name again and again to the haze of static. As he reached the edge of the roof, he scaled down the side, fingers pressing into the stone as he slid down the building, landing on all fours with a silent crouch.

He had retraced his steps and sought the two streets behind Morrison had mentioned. It was quiet, and bar the hum of a passing car nearby, he was alone. People had either remained in their houses from the aftermath of the attack, congregated at the stadium, or had offered their hand to help where they could. But their mission was separate. Mostly. They were to seek out a Talon member, operating discreetly as a civilian. But all hadn’t quite gone to plan. Their approach had been tipped off and they were forced to separate. Hanzo was on his trail, at a distance, McCree at his flank. Morrison had held back, keeping his distance, picking off any that had followed their pursuit.

But Angela was missing.

“Genji,” said Morrison with his ragged voice. “You found her?”

“No.”

He turned the corner, keeping his head low as he ran, keeping the lights on his body, off. And then he heard steps, rapid, loud, accompanied by rasping breaths.

And in a flurry of white, of blonde, of a mess of arms which then pulled out her pistol at the collision, her staff falling to the ground, Angela stood inches before Genji.

As the green glow of his lights came on and she registered it was him, the pistol fell out of her hands, her lips parted and without thought, she stepped forward and embraced him, reaching up on the tips of her toes as she wound her fingers around his neck, his head, catching the coil of his silk ribbon.

“ _Gott sei dank_ ,” she breathed, her breath fogging the metal of his helm. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’d never stop until I found you,” he said as he felt her restless hands slide over his neck, his back, the tips of her fingers pressing into the synthetic muscle.

“I’m here,” she said, pulling back her head, just enough to gaze into his visor, the bright glow of green basking her skin. “ _I’m here_.”

And without word, her back collided against the wall, her wings parting, their bodies shrouded in the shadow of the house Genji had just scaled. Holding her in place with his thighs, Genji unclipped his faceplate with haste, his touch clumsy, desperate. He let it slip to the ground at their feet, the clang of metal to stone, sharp, in the air.

He caught her lips in a kiss; a messy kiss, breathless, as their lips dragged together. He wound his hands around her back and pressed at the buttons that removed her wings. He caught them in his hands as they fell, the metal scratching against the wall, then the ground, as they fell with a clang.

Angela’s back met the wall with a renewed thud as her wings fell, and she gasped, their kiss broken, as his body collided again with hers. She took the moment to gaze at his eyes, obscured by the shadow of his helm. But she could still see them; every detail, every line, every scar that was etched on his skin.

But the moment was brief. The moment was fleeting. For he took her lips into a kiss again, pushing aside the shock of hair, it’s strands sticking to her lips.

She moaned, her body arching into his as they kissed, and on instinct, she drew her thigh along his, curving it around his waist like a vice. Genji’s hands slid from her face to her chest, to her waist, to her thighs. Metal fingers pushed underneath her body armour, and sought the thick leggings of her Valkyrie.

 _God_ , she thought, _they were going to do this. Here_.

And as his cold, metal fingers dragged along her stomach, tugging at the waistband of her leggings, she smiled through their kiss, her teeth dragging against the cybernetic flesh of his bottom lip.

He tugged down the zip, and then with an eager touch, rough, raw, he pulled her thick black leggings down to her knees, the drag of his metal fingers along her thighs scoring her flesh.

Angela gasped, biting the edge of his lip as he took control. He stepped back, one hand cradling her behind for support, the other pulling off a shoe, casting it to the ground as he slipped free her leg from the confines of her leggings. Genji dragged his hand along her bare leg, hoisting it around his waist, the smooth, warm skin a stark contrast to the hiss of his metal joints.

As their lips met again in a kiss, Genji breathed a laugh. “You forgot your underwear.”

“Who says I forgot?” she teased as he stepped in closer, pressing chest to chest, the scratch of the wall rough against her back.

At that, Genji grabbed her hand and held it high above her head, fingers clamped tightly with his. The stone of the wall bit against her flesh, but she _didn’t care_. He wound his other hand between her legs, one finger coiling between her already wet slit, his touch eliciting a long, loud moan; a vibrato through their kiss, against his lips.

He was going to be slow, one finger first, then two. But his patience lingered on a thread, and as she moaned, as she writhed against his body, it frayed. And then as she dragged a gloved hand around his neck, pressing into his synthetic muscles, reaffirming their kiss, it broke.

One finger became two, lost within her walls as they curved against the shape of her body, his thumb circling the bud of nerves at the crest of her slit.

And oh, she moaned. She _sang_. Her song so sweet, erratic, she could barely return the kiss of his lips. She moved against his touch, once, twice, more, pressing her bare heel into the small of his back, granting herself the leverage she needed; that she wanted.

But it wasn’t enough.

Her eyes sprang open, accompanied by a gasp as Genji pushed in further, the edge of his metal fingers dragging against her flesh.

But it wasn’t enough.

The hands at his neck slid down his chest, fast, desperate, pausing at his groin, where she rested two fingers on the flat circles at either side of a smooth, unsuspecting panel of metal.

Genji paused. His fingers still, frozen inside her as he pulled back a breath and caught her gaze, the corner of his mouth curving to a smile.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she said, simply, pressing her thumbs against the circles, awaiting his acceptance.

And as he closed his eyes, briefly, the lights on his metal skin shimmered as the panel between her thumbs retracted. With the soft hiss of metal, of hydraulics, where once a flesh cock had been, there now slipped free, hidden unless needed, and oh, _it was needed_ , a cybernetic cock.

Angela drew her fingers along the length, along the tandem of metal, of synthetic flesh, of ridges indented along the shaft. She had made this, so many years ago, but now, it felt new, it felt like him. She hadn’t wanted to assume he’d want this, so she had waited, and she had asked when the time was right. It had been a 3am conversation when he couldn’t sleep, huddled under her blanket as they watched a boxset.

With each touch of her fingers, as they glided along his length, as they pinched the metal ridges, the softer, synthetic skin, Genji, shuddered.

The hand, splayed by her head against the wall, faltered. He pulled out his fingers from her slit, drawing a sharp gasp from Angela. His arm, collapsed, and he fell against her body, he fell against the wall, as her touch ignited the artificial nerve sensors that were wired into his body. She had thought of everything; she had given him, _everything_.

“ _Genji_ ,” came her plea, her whisper, against his cheek.

Fingers sought her behind, hoisting her up an inch, two, dragging her against the wall, just enough. And then he pulled her back - back down on his cock, roughly, desperately, her wet skin enveloping the metal, the synthetics; _him_.

She tried to quiet her moan, throwing her arm across her mouth, biting into the flesh, teeth scoring the skin. But he didn’t want her to be quiet. He wanted to hear her. He wanted her to be loud. He didn’t care who heard. He didn’t care who saw.

_He didn’t care._

Genji pulled away her arm and pinned both above her head, clamped, motionless, by the vice grip of his hand. Angela bit the edge of her lip, smiling at the display of control.

She was at his mercy. Bound, helpless and exactly where she wanted to be.

He thrust once, twice, thrice, _more_ ; each motion dragging her back against the rough wall of the building, and biting into the flesh of her fingers. It matted her hair, pulling free, loose, from her ponytail. But she didn’t care.

She pushed away from the wall and against his thrusts, her back arching into his cock, into the metal, the synthetic skin, the ridges that were not natural, that were harder, that were different than anything else, than _anyone else_. She had offered to make one more natural, more like it used to be. But he had refused. He had accepted what - _who_ \- he was now.

As he thrust, he kissed her. He kissed her cheek, her lips, her covered neck, his teeth biting through the soft fabric of her suit. Moans vibrated against her skin, low, long, loud. A tandem to her high, ragged breaths; a harmony to her melody.

The feeling of her skin, wrapped around his new cock, around his synthetic nerves was - he tried to compare to how it felt when he was human. But now, he didn’t care. For all he cared for, was this, was _her_.

Her legs gripped his back, one bare heel, one not, pressing to the small of his back, granting her the leverage she needed, that she wanted. He answered by thrusting harder, faster, sinking the hand at her behind into her soft flesh, metal scratching the skin from the force of his grip.

Angela threw back her head, dragging her white hair against the wall. She was close, so close; a breath away from the edge of her pleasure. God, it had been so quick. So quick as the metal of his cock slid against her slick walls, as the tip, cold at first, had hit her spot, again, and again.

She felt his grip on his hands tighten.

He felt her body arch again, the motion, sudden.

She felt him thrust harder. Harder. And faster, sliding her body up the wall.

He dragged her back down by the thigh, and buried his head into her neck, swathed by the loose shock of her hair, awash with her scent.

She was close, she was there.

He was there - he was there -

And with a last, long, rough, thrust, the metal dragging against her flesh, he reached his peak, with every nerve, every sensor in his body igniting with the fire of his passion, of his desire, for her.

He whispered her name, again, and again, breathless, against her cheek, lips brushing against her skin as he came, basking in her beauty as he felt her body shudder.

And she too reached her climax, her body tensing, seizing to that picturesque statue, that breathless beauty of her pleasure, her eyes closed, her lips parted, the slither of moonlight dappling her skin, her hair, the halo that sat askew, almost knocked to her forehead.

And then she opened her eyes, and caught his gaze, her ruby lips curved to a lazy smile. Her hair awry, stuck to her cheek. Her hand, pulled free, a thumb drawing beneath his eyes, eyes he only let her see, over the scars that held a memory, a memory he only shared with her.

And he knew this; this, was love.

**Author's Note:**

> How Genji can have sex/his bits n pieces are just my personal headcanons. <3 I hope you enjoy them!


End file.
